And Justice Shall Fall Upon the World of Men
by From Dust to Ashes
Summary: "You cannot judge me. For I am Justice itself! We were meant for more than this; to protect the innocent! But if our Ancient Law binds us all to inaction...I will no longer stand as your brother." Act I end cutscene novelization.


The bright light of the torch illuminated the man walking on the hill. He would have been unremarkable had he not been garbed in heavy armor, his skin not been much, much darker than the average human, and not been nearly eight feet in height. His skin, tanned the same color as hazelnuts, was smooth, apart from the various scars marking his otherwise handsome face. Quickly reaching the peak of the hill, the man stopped before a pile of wooden branches stacked upon each other, laden with a corpse. A tall slender woman stood atop the hill already, clutching a thick tome in her pale hands.

"I thought...it was all just stories," Leah began haltingly. Her voice seemed to carry a bitter weight. "My Uncle saw...what he wanted to see." As she spoke, she tenderly laid the tome on Deckard's chest. Even in Death, Cain seemed so peaceful, as if he was naught but taking a nap, and would, _could_, wake up anytime.

"Deckard sacrificed much to protect the world," Tyrael reminded Leah. "But his work, is not over."

"What would you know about _sacrifice_?" she snapped back. In the glare of the torch light, tears tracing each of her cheeks glinted and shined. The former angel stared at her for a second, expression unreadable. Suddenly, without warning, he reached out and grasped Leah's forearm, dwarfing it in his armored fist. With a sudden jolt, as if her blood had suddenly turned to ice water, she felt her vision turn white as Tyrael sent her his memories.

Then...she saw.

* * *

"Tyrael!" Imperius' voice rang and echoed loudly inside the Silver Spire. He was a head taller than the average angel, had a fear-inspiring war helmet donned upon his face, and wings sprouted from his upper back, as they would with any angel. "The Ancient Law of the High Heavens strictly forbids us from interfering with the mortal world. Yet you have done so. Brazenly!" The never-tarnishing armor containing the archangel's essence clanked and clinked as he gestured with his hand, pointing at the angel on the catwalk beneath him.

"All I am guilty of, Imperius, is bringing Justice," Tyrael responded with the same anger and malice that had laced the Archangel of Valour's voice, "while you hide, cowering behind your throne." The insult itself would have angered any angel, who, as a people, were prone to pride and vainness, but to the Archangel of Valour himself, it was an insult of integrity and everything he stood for.

"SILENCE!" Imperius' fist grew cherry-red, as if heated, and the discoloration spread quickly across his body until all of him, including his wings, was an ethereal white. Pushing off from his pedestal with his powerful legs, his armor melted into his essence, which then flew in the form of a white orb trailed by similarly colored streaks flowing behind it. Landing on the ground in front of Tyrael silently, the silence was shattered as the angelic warrior took up his physical shape again, a sound like a thousand glasses breaking filling the air.

As before, his armor glowed red-hot, until cooling its normal golden coloration. "You shall now answer for your transgressions!" Reaching out, his armored fist grabbed hold of Tyrael's hauberk, then yanked the Archangel of Justice, who uttered a surprised grunt, even closer to him. In a fluid motion, Tyrael was raised into the air, his hands grasping at his commander's vambrace, feet hovering above the ground as Imperius held out his other open hand. In but a mere two seconds, the same shimmer of ethereal essence as before flowed into his hand before solidifying into his familiar war spear, _Solarian_. It was a mighty and fearsome weapon, taking shape only through Valour's will, and could also be summoned. Once it had cooled, which took another mere second, his hand closed around it and brought it to bear.

As he thrust it forward, towards Tyrael's face, Tyrael sudden shifted his body to the left, sending the spearhead off to his right, directly over his pauldron. Before Imperius recovered from the sudden movement and surprise, Tyrael reached out and grabbed hold of _Solarian_ with the sound of metal screeching against metal. Angered even further, Imperius grasped his weapon with both hands, and, as both angels spun around, trying to buy purchase against the other, he ran Tyrael against the end of the causeway. Again, the sound of metal against metal rang as Justice's back hit the metal obstruction preventing one from falling off. (Although, in a city of beings capable of flying, falling from a hundred feet high was not as serious as one would think)

The shock flowed through both of the angels, and both grunted, then fell to the right, off of the catwalk, and tumbled down to the platform a good hundred feet underneath them. As they fell through the air, Tyrael, thinking quickly, maneuvered himself so that he would be on top of Imperius when they landed. It was naught to soon; they landed the moment he twisted Imperius beneath. Even so, both Justice and Valour lost their grip on the spear once they landed with a sickening thud. Both stared at the spear, which had spun away from them. With remarkable, yet unsurprising resilience, as befitting an archangel, Imperius recovered first, reached up, and yelling, threw Tyrael aside as if he were nothing more than a pesky insect. Imperius' armor grew bright red once more, as he shifted his form to where his spear was laying. Landing in a kneeling position, Valour reached for _Solarion_, only to watch it be tugged out of his grasping reach. Looking up, he saw Tyrael, firmly wielding the weapon.

"You cannot judge me. For I am Justice itself!" Imperius slowly rose, wings laying on the ground beside him, as the other archangel gestured with both spear and hand. Tyrael continued, "We were meant for more than this; to protect the _innocent!_ But if our Ancient Laws bind us all to inaction...then I will no more stand as your brother." Throughout his tirade, he had kept _Solarian_ tightly held in his hand. He now plunged the holy spear into the ground before him, which fragmented into tiny shards around the impact point.

* * *

Gasping, Leah fell back to the present, as the chill that had filled her before left her, as did the memory. It felt as though she had been holding her breath throughout the entire reviewing of the angelic fight, and she might well have been. Looking up at the now-human Tyrael, she gaped in amazement. Up until now, she had always thought that he had been sent down from the High Heavens under orders, as a good little angel, or that perhaps he had been ordered against his will to come down to the mortal plane. But now...she had been in Tyrael's memories, and Leah could see that his choice to come down as a human had been a willing sacrifice on his part.

"You chose," she began in a tone that contrasted sharply with her earlier attitude, "to be one of us." So enthralled by what she had just witnessed, forgetting to ask permission, she hurriedly put her hand on Tyrael's chestplate, as she was sent hurtling back to the past, and into the rest of the memory.

* * *

Tyrael's hands grasped at his pauldrons, seeking to find purchase on them, straining to rip them off, along with his wings. As a small cracks began to appear, they glowed a hot orange light, not unlike the color of Imperius after his spirit transportations.

Seeing and understanding the intent of Tyrael, Imperius braced himself, covering his eyes with his forearm, as he whispered, shocked, "Sacrilege..." Yet for all his power, he could not but stare at Justice who, with one last mighty yell, ripped the pauldrons from his body, a now golden light pouring from the wounds on his shoulders. A wave of force rippled outwardly from his body, as an orb of light from his shoulders gathered, then dispersed with another forceful push, this one stronger than the last. The force was so strong, small chunks of debris rained down upon them, along with a cloud of dust and smaller particles.

Falling from his back, his wings, attached to his shoulder plates, drifted to the ground, groaning in protest. As soon as the metal hit the floor of the Silver Spire, it glowed red-hot, then sank through the floor uncontested, as if it held no more resistance than a sheet of parchment. Tyrael's hood followed his wings, falling to his back, and it revealed his face: an empty uncolored void, that began to take shape, as befitting his now mortal body. His wings, once blue, were converted into the same color as coals in a hot forge then began to climb from the floor towards his face, as a sound like hundreds of hushed whispers overcame all other sound in the courtyard. Grabbing at his shoulders, waist, wrists, whatever they could grasp in their tentacle-like embrace, they pushed the now-mortal to his knees, then down through the floor, Tyrael's face still swirling and unfinished...

The heat was the first thing that Tyrael remembered, along with the pain. He remembered himself falling, down, down. Looking around himself, the great warrior could see red, orange, yellow, swirling all around him; it took him several seconds to realize that those swirls were fire coursing all around him, as if he was a live meteor. Then, looking down, he saw ground below, the ground of the mortal world. Plunging even faster into the hard earth beneath him, it was hard to be sure at the speed he was going, but right before he hit the ground, he thought he had seen a stone spire, like one would see on a cathedral.

* * *

"Thus, I fell," Tyrael finished, as Leah's vision swirled to an end. "Because humanity," the massive warrior said, extending his hand towards Leah, "is the only hope we have for this world." Looking up at his open hand, she wrapped her hand around the index finger, her own fingers not even meeting around Tyrael's. With a new steely resolve, Leah pulled herself up, and looked down at her uncle. Gently, she caressed Cain's bald forehead.

"I never believed," she murmured, "all your crazy tales. But work...that you never finished..." As she spoke, she took the Book of Cain back from where she had laid it on his belly, and hugged it to her own bosom with the same gentleness of one caring for a newborn child. "I will finish it Uncle. I will carry on for you." By an unspoken agreement, Tyrael lowered his torch, placing it in between the dry branches of the pyre. The oil poured over the wood, and Deckard Cain lit quickly, creating a blazing inferno that spread to the wood. In a minute, the crackling fire hid Deckard from view with a veil of flames and smoke. Leah closed her eyes, as the crackling flames grew higher.

_'Goodbye, Uncle."_


End file.
